Never Forgotten
by Marvelgirl411
Summary: America, England, France and Russia have lost someone dear to them. They come together to tell each other how amazing that person was and how much they miss them. But what surprise does fate have in store when they go home? Rated "T" for gore in earlier chapters.
1. Love Lost Part One

Hello! This is my first published fan fiction so I apologize in advance for any major mistakes. Constructive criticism in encouraged, and please enjoy!

I do not own Hetalia or the character's used.

Love Lost...France: May 30th 1431

A girl walked gracefully down a cobbled street. She wore a simple white dress that gently halted at the ground. Her hair was short and a beautiful shade of blonde. Her head was held high.

In the distance, church bells tolled...

Behind her, were two men dressed in religious robes. On either side walked armed guards. In front, leading the procession, was a blonde man with green eyes and bushy eyebrows. Her hands were tied together with a rope, which was cutting into her wrists; leaving angry scratches.

The church bells tolled...

The group arrived at a large crowd, surrounding a pyre. They climbed on top and the guards started to tie the young girl to the stake.

"Joan!" a males voice called. The man with bushy eyebrows turned and saw a blonde man with blue eyes push through the crowd. "Please, Britain don't do this!"

"Secure her to the stake." the man ordered.

The bells rang louder...

"Fr Martin Ladvenu, Fr Isambart de la Pierre," Joan said as they tightened the ropes, "Please 'old a crucifix before me as I prepare to meet God."

"Of course."

A little girl also placed one at her feet. France pushed against the large crowed. He could save her, if he was fast enough, he could save her from the flames.

"May God forgive you for your sins." the executioner said as the bells tolled again. "Any last words?"

"Yes," her eyes found France struggling to get to her. "one life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice what you are and live without belief that is a fate more terrible than dying."

With that, the executioner set the bonfire ablaze.

"NO!" France cried, "Britain please!"

"I'm sorry, but it is out of my hands." he shrugged.

"It's okay France," she coughed. "I'm finally able to meet God." the smoke-filled her lungs and she slowly suffocated. France watched in painful horror as the light faded from her eyes.

The orange flames licked her body and slowly engulfed her. Like they were savoring every bite of human flesh that they consumed. When the fire died, finally satisfied, Britain ordered that they rack back the coals to prove that Joan had not escaped.

France gauged at the sight. His beautiful Joan scorched black like Britain's cooking. Her short blonde hair now charred. The hands that comforted him not so long ago, were unrecognizable.

The church bells tolled...

"Burn the ashes." England commanded. His orders were quickly obeyed and Joan's remains were thrown back to the mercy of the flames. Smoke traveled to where France stood horror-struck. He could feel his heart breaking, falling into the empty abyss that was his chest. The orange monster greedily taking it, the orange monster with green eyes.

"STOP IT, SHE'S DEAD!" France begged England. This time the gentlemen country ignored the other's cry, and let himself be captivated by the flames.

When they were silenced a second time, England ordered for the executioner to relight the pyre.

"Sir, there's no way she survived that." he said.

"That's a direct order." England's face was cold. He knew everyone was staring at him. Everyone but France. England knew that France's eyes rested on the pyre, world shattered; heart-broken.

The flames were reawakened for the last time. France's pain clawed at him, he'd been too late. She was with God, in a place he'd never be.

The church bells were silent.


	2. Love Lost Part Two

Hello again! Thank you for commenting ^.^ it really made my day. I'll try to update often, at least once a week. But here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

Love lost...Great Britain: April 28, 1603

The funeral procession made it's way slowly to Westminster Abbey. In front was a hearse pulled by veiled horses. It was followed by a large mass of English men, women and children.

Walking besides the hearse was a blonde man, with emerald eyes and bushy eyebrows. His armor shining dully in the predictably muddy english weather.

Around him, the people of England were crying. From windows, homes and from those in the street and eternal howl of pain echoed through England.

No one knew how their cries tore at the blond knight. His emeralds had lost their luster, even he knew that. It hurt, terribly. He wanted nothing more than to crumple to the ground, like he had that morning, and cry with his people.

But he kept his feet moving. He'd promised that he'd be strong. And as much as it hurt, he didn't want to show that broken side. That vulnerable part of his heart.

He tried to keep his thoughts on the funeral, on them putting her in the unforgiving cold ground. But his mind wondered to what had ultimately brought him there. To that morning.

_Richmond palace: March 24, 1603 2-3 a.m._

_Britain woke with a start. His chest ached and his heart rapidly beat against his chest. His thoughts quickly turned to the woman on the other side of the castle. The word 'no' repeating in his head._

_He sat up in bed only to fall painfully back into the pillows. His head pounded and his limbs felt like they were burning. Every twitch sent resounding complaints to the English men's body._

_But he couldn't let her die alone._

_He yelped in pain as he forced himself out of the bed and stumbled into the hallway. Trailing one hand against the wall for support and the other clutching at his side as it protested movement._

_Britain stumbled to where a flight of stairs mocked him. "Blast it all." he gasped. He held the banister but only got three steps down before he doubled over in complete agony. He tumbled to the bottom of the flight of stairs and curled up._

_Tears stained the carpet as the Brit cursed loudly. Keeping one hand at his side he pushed himself up and started crawling up the second flight of stairs. The only arm supporting him threatened to give the entire way and his legs sent painful shocks with every kick._

_At long last he made it to her door, smiling in skull splitting victory, England reached up for the door knob._

_She have him by her side._

_His heart dropped. An ache unknown by any other filled his whole being. His body slumped to the ground and let the pain have him. He howled in despair at his disbelief._

_The door was locked._

_She'd be alone..._

_Crumpled and broken on the ground, Britain's tears cascaded down his face. his head pounded, his limbs were on fire with agony, his heart felt as if it was going to burst, his eyes wanted to close, close and never open again._

England laid on his bed, eyes boring into the ceiling. His heart still ached with his people, but he'd known for a while that she was going to leave. He just wasn't as ready for it as he thought.

On the table next to him there were two pieces of paper, a quill and some ink. One paper was only half completed, addressed to France. The other looked to be a formal introduction from his new boss, James IV of Scotland. The last line expressed his desire to be as good as his predecessor.

That particular line still brought a faint smile to England's lips. That was a pointless goal. He'd never be as good as her.

No one could be as good as Elizabeth.


	3. Love Lost Part Three

Yay! We're almost to the actual story bit! Only two more after this and then we can get to reminiscing~! Until then...Russia!

Love Lost...Russia: July 17, 1918

"Get up," softly rushed voices urged the sleeping family. "you're being moved." Slowly they got up and dressed. They were lead to the sub basement and told to wait.

"Can we get chairs for Alexandra and Alexi?" the empress asked.

"Of course, da."

"Ivan!" One of the girls squealed. She ran to the tall man and hugged his waist tightly. His large hands placed themselves on her back.

"Hello my sunflower." he sighed.

"What's wrong?" the girl pulled back to look into his eyes. "Are you not happy to see us?"

"I am." Ivan forced a smile. "I just wish we could stop moving you around so often."

Anastasia knew he was lying. But he wasn't one to talk about things he didn't want to. So she pulled him to the ground and curled up in his lap.

Ivan looked up and counted. Tsar and his wife were in one corner, talking in hushed tones. Two man servants stood close by them. Dr. Botkin was over by Alexai and his sister. Demidova was comforting Maria in a similar manner to Ivan and Anastasia.

All ten were there. With a heavy sigh, he gently pushed Anastasia off him, mumbling about seeing how long they were going to be there.

"How many?" a man asked.

"They're all there." Ivan assured.

He couldn't really explain how it felt to see Yurovsky smile at his news. It reminded him slightly of Rasputin and made him angry. But being around his countrymen against Tsar and his family made him eager to complete this act of betrayal.

He made quick work in changing his tan trench coat for his white army uniform. He could feel himself fall into the rebellion of this war. His heart whimpered in protest one final time as he thought of Anastasia. She would be so scared.

"Let's go." Yurovsky signaled. Ivan pulled up his scarf to cover his face. It would end now.

The small group of assassins could hear the families hushed whispers below. Another tug at Ivan's heart. What was he doing?

Yurovsky opened the door to the sub basement Ivan just behind him.

"You will now be executed for the betterment of Russia." Yurovsky declared loudly.

"What?" Tsar was cut off by bullets to his chest.

"PAPA!" The children screamed. The guns continued to fire. Ivan wanted to hear his bullets fly through the air. At Yurovsky and the other assassins or his beloved royal family, he wasn't sure.

Smoke quickly filled the room. So the other gunmen pulled back. Ivan's knees buckled. The turmoil inside him was testing to say the least.

One part of him was a tidal wave of tears for the family he was tearing apart. It begged him to stop. Stop before he lost them all.

The other part of him reveled in the bloodshed. Hungered for it. They were to be punished for what they were. The very idea of more made the beast rear it's head in anticipation.

All of this happened in a few minutes as Yurovsky lead them back to the basement. On first sight they could see that Tsar, the empress and the two man servants were dead. While Marie, Dr. Botkin and Demidova were wounded, the rest were more or less untouched, simply shaken up.

The next shot was Dr. Botkin. His blood splattered against the wall. Bullets bounced off Alexei. So another gunman shot him in the head. The young boys eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to the ground.

Yurovsky began to wrestle with Maria. His dagger sliding off her dress with a clang. Finally, she was shot, blood poured from the back of her head, and she shivered to the ground.

He turned his attention to Anastasia, Ivan remembered that they'd been drinking. So he wasn't surprised when Yurovsky tried the wrestling tactic again.

Up until then, Ivan had stayed off to the side. But the sounds of Anastasia struggling brought him back to attention. He was bigger, he could stop this. But for who? He feared what his hands, given the chance, would do. Ivan was bigger why didn't he squash the twerp?

He was bigger, why wasn't he saving her?

A resounding bang of a gun snapped him out of his moment of inner turmoil. Anastasia fell to the ground, falling into her already pooling blood. His heart froze over. She was gone wasn't she? He felt empty but not completely, not yet.

"Lets get the bodies out of here." Yurovsky grinned.

Demidova had been killed somewhere in the chaos, her still body proof enough of that. Ivan walked out of the room, going to the area above the basement. He felt torn inside, did he really just stand by and watch them die?

Of course they were traitors...

But he loved them...

They weren't the best for Russia...

They were his leaders...

They were traitors...

He loved her...

She didn't love him.

"Ivan!" He heard someone yell. He turned. "Open the door so we can get out of here."

Nodding slowly, Ivan opened the front door for them. Each dead face holding a different name. Tsar-traitor; loving-the empress; Alexei-disgusting; Alexandra-frail; Maria-soft; Anastasia...

A soft moan escaped her lips. "Ivan..."

He froze. Did she know? Or was he just her last word? Before he could answer that question Maria sat up and screamed.

The entire group jumped at the sound. One of them set a hard whack on the back of her head. Silencing her. But only Ivan, it seemed, noticed Anastasia's consciousness.

He could still save her.

They drove to where they were going to bury the bodies. Ivan stayed close to Anastasia, silencing her soft moans. Half wanting to smash her skull. But left his hand on her head.

The car stopped in the middle of a frost forest. A few men got out and began hacking at the icy snow.

"Let's go," Yurovsky gestured to Ivan, "and bring her."

Confused, eager and protective, Ivan followed cradling Anastasia. His partner had walked over to a tree with low branches.

"Put her here." he pointed. Ivan obeyed, anticipation and fear growing inside him. He carefully placed her arms so they were tangled in the branches. "Now finish her."

Ivan found a small bayonet being pressed into his hand.

10 seconds...

Ivan gripped the knife with a purpose. The sudden rush of blood lust filled him. She was draped beautifully, so pale but he knew of the red that flowed beneath her drained skin. Just waiting to cover her red.

20 seconds...

A step forward, _'what am I doing?'_ This was his precious Anastasia. He's fantasizing about killing her. His grand duchess. Helplessly strung in the tree by his own hands, how disgusting that he would do that.

40 seconds...

Only a few more steps from his captured dutchess. His hand twitched in excitement.

50 seconds...

'_Stop!'_ He commanded himself. He couldn't do this...not to her.

55 seconds...

Do it, do it now!

59 seconds...

NO!

60 seconds...

yes.

The knife pierced her, and she gurgled out a gasp. She shivered against the tree and went limp.

61 Seconds...

no...

I know there's a TON of controversy in this matter due to the fact that there is no solid evidence of how she died. But there is a theory going around that she met her end by bayonet and I thought that would make a better story than anything else. Review, comment tell me what you think! Also, I'm considering what the countries are going tell each other about later, so feel free to give me any suggestions that you want to read in future chapters. I'll post America's in a week but you can think about these three. Thanks for reading ^.^


	4. Love Lost Part Four

Second to last one. Sorry I know I'm milking this but I write in segments and update as soon as I have it written. There'll be one more chapter before we get to hear all about these women. And that may not be for a while. I can't find the next couple of segments but I'll try to find them before the end of next week. But enough about that, it's the Hero's turn!

_Love Lost...America: July, 5 1937_

"_Alfred Mate!" Jack knocked on his brother's bedroom door. "Open up!"_

_Alfred burst open the door. His hair disheveled and bags under his eyes were testimony to how little he'd slept the past few days._

"_You look awful, mate." Jack noted._

"_What do you want?" the normally cheerful country snapped, "I was about to go see my boss."_

"_Looking like that?" The Aussie glanced him over again. He was still wearing his tie from two days ago, pulled down and crooked. His button down shirt was partly untucked, and, Jack looked at his fee, he still had his dress shoes on. "You need to lay down, mate."_

"_NO!" Alfred angrily protested. "She's alive Jack! She needs me!"_

"_Al," Jack soothed._

"_NO!" Alfred pushed past the Australian, papers in his hand, forgetting his glasses. With a sigh, Jack grabbed Texas and followed the American._

'_I have to save her.' Alfred ran frantically._

"_You'll always be my hero..."_

'_I have to!'_

_Alfred burst through the door to his boss' office. Putnam was already talking with Alfred's boss, and he'd clearly interrupted._

"_Mr. Jones." Putnam stood._

"_What is it Alfred?" His boss demanded angrily._

"_Sir," Alfred tossed the papers on the desk. "This just came in from Wailupe, Honolulu. It had her calling sign, sir. They're not going to last long._

"_And one of my guys just called in." Jack added, "said he heard 'KAHQQ.' that's what her call sign was right, mate?"_

"_SEE! We need to act now!" Alfred's hands slammed against the table._

"_We're looking as hard as we can." His boss venomously reasoned. "Now go home. We will let you know if anything comes up."_

_Jack wrestled his brother from the conference room. Putnam and this boss continued discussing whatever the brothers had interrupted._

January 5, 1939...

Alfred sat curled up in bed. Large tubs of rocky road ice cream and chocolate wrappers littered the floor. The faded glow of the sunset crept through the crack in his curtains. The static of the radio accompanied his gentle sobs.

An empty bottle was cracked at the bottom of the radio. Splatters of the drink still rested against the dial where the bottle had been thrown.

The announcer's voice still echoed in his head. That one sentence that made him so upset and angry...

" _In reaction to being unable to find the young pilot, George P. Putnam announced today that he will be taking over Amelia Earhart's estate..."_

He wanted to rip out his boss' throat for not telling him. He wanted to stay curled in bed and cry. He wanted her to come and laugh at him out of bed. He wanted more ice cream.

But he didn't want to move. He didn't want to feel the hallowing sadness that tears brought on. He didn't want to feel how shaky his legs would undoubtedly feel if he got up. He didn't want her to see him like that.

"Alfred, mate!" Jack knocked on the door. "Come on! Open up!" He listened against the door. No sound came from his brother's room. "If you don't open up, then I'll knock it down." he wanted.

Soft mumbling and shuffling came in response and Alfred opened the door. Jack watched as Alfred just trudged back to his bed and wrapped himself back in the blanket. Jack looked at the mess on the floor.

"Crikey mate." Jack said, "You boss told me that they announced it a few hours ago."

"What do you want?" Alfred grumbled.

Jack stood shocked for a minute before running to the kitchen. Not that Alfred cared, if anything he wanted to be alone. But his brother came back ten minutes later with another tub of icecream.

Alfred sat up and Jack sat next to him setting the ice cream in Al's lap. "I'm sorry, mate."

"I just can't believe she's gone." Alfred rasped. Hoarse from crying. Jack softly rubbed his back, smiling as Alfred's lips puckered around the spoon in his mouth. "What is this?" he asked pulling a large piece of broccoli from his mouth.

"Rocky Road with broccoli bits." Jack smile, "Figured you needed a little nutrient in all of this, mate." Alfred fell into his brother's lap crying. Jack completely surprised, asked "What's wrong, mate?"

"She used to do that too." he sobbed.

"_...ladies and gentlemen, a hero has died today."_

All right! That's the last pre-back story. Comment and tell me if there is anything in particular you really want in their stories. You have one more chapter before you start to lose country opportunities so you may want to think fast if there's something you want written.


	5. Love Desired Intro

Quick note! When something looks like this- "_Text"_ that means it's happening in the past. This will occur in these next five chapters so I didn't want you to be confused.

Love Desired...September 1, 2011

France did one final sweep of his hair. America had invited a few of the countries over to his house. More specifically, Russia, him and Angleterre. He was going to arrive with Britain, in fact he was leaving in a few hours to catch the boat to his house before getting on another one to America's. A few hours...might as well...

He grabbed a pack of Gauloises and a lighter. He hated this part, but it had been centuries since Rouen, he needed to get over this.

His hand shook as he flicked the lighter alive. Quickly putting the cigarette to the licking flame, silencing it before he could hear the bells again.

France took a long drag, closing his eyes, allowing the nicotine to still his shaking body. He had found this trick between the world wars. Smoking had been a sign of patriotism.

Before, he would just force himself by fireplaces with a glass of wine in his hand to stop the shaking. This was more convenient.

He ground the cigarette butt out and left it in the ash tray. His servants knew how to take care of it. France pulled on his coat and headed out the door. His boat to Britain's place would be leaving soon.

France stood at the railing of the boat. He pulled the new cigar out of his mouth and blew puffs of smoke. A gust of wind blasted and forced the foul air back into his face.

He could've sworn he heard church bells ringing...

England pulled out, yet another, pan of burnt scones. It was days like this that he really thought about putting forth effort in his cooking just to prove to that frog how much better he was. But whenever he'd start...he would hear her laugh again.

With a sigh, he threw out the batch of ruined scones with the rest. His kitchen reeked of charcoal rich foods. But at least it drowned her smell. It made it hard to hear her laugh echo in his infinitely empty home.

Somehow, he managed to get to his entry way. He was waiting for that frog actually. America had invited them and Russia, of all people, to his house. It wasn't for a few more days, but travel time needed to be accounted for. A boisterous knock resounded on the door. England was suddenly excited, running a hand through his hair and straightening his jacket, he opened the door.

"Bonjour Britain!" the Frenchman smiled, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. Evidently the frog caught England's stare. "Want one?"

"No," the Englishmen snapped from his trance. For a minute there, he thought the frog was her.

'_Absurd,' _he thought as he followed France to the docks. '_Frog Legs is the last person who I should mistake as her...'_

The train passed slurred Russian countryside. In a spot closest to the window sat Russia losing his thoughts to the blurring white outside the window. His house had been quiet since the Soviet Union was dissolved, so when America had sent out an invitation to go to his house, Russia had anxiously counted the days.

He looked up as two children ran by squealing. The tallest one looked about five and the other looked about three. Russia looked to see a man in his early twenties, chasing the two children. A few seats back was their mother, he assumed, chuckling to herself.

Another loud squeal was heard and the whole train watched as the father brought the children back, only to have them cuddle next to their mother.

The eldest child was a girl. Russia forced himself to look back out the window. He wouldn't notice anymore. The circumstances were too similar, the girl too much like her.

Just the thought warmed Russia's heart. Feeling her through his memories, hearing her squeal, it was like that glorious squealish that his bayonet-

"Next stop!" the conductor yelled snapping Russia back.

He stood and secured his luggage then left the laughing family. He had a plane to catch, and a nightmare to see again on the way.

America checked for the umpteenth time that day alone. Was he nervous? Nah, he was only bringing two world renowned enemies and the scariest nation alive under one roof where Germany and other potential distractions wouldn't be. He was the hero! He could handle them.

His house had been cleaned dusted, polished, vacuumed and repeatedly cleared of McDonalds bags and wrappers over the last month. The sheets in the guest bedrooms had been repeatedly washed, despite the lack of use. And the rooms themselves had been personalized to each nation.

The last week had been spent buying ingredients and testing recipes to accommodate his guests pallet. France had been hard, but America hoped it would be enough.

Normally, the American wouldn't go to such extents to make his guests so at home. His idea of 'hospitable' was a barely cleaned house and take out. But his boss had told him that if he wanted them to open up, he needed to be more friendly than usual.

He didn't care too much though. It made it possible for him to ignore what he was going to tell them. What he was going to tell about her.

The doorbell rang, snapping him from his thoughts. '_Show time'_ he thought.

September 3, 2011

England glanced, again, around the table. Russia sat across from him and was shoving eggs around his plate. France was to his left stirring his coffee, staring at the omelet in front of him. England had a plate of scones, jam and butter.

America came in with a fourth plate and two more cups. He placed the teacup with Earl Gray in front of England and the rest on the last empty spot at the table. Everyone noted how closely his food resembled what they served at that McDonalds place.

The normally oblivious country had been acting differently since they had arrived at his house, late two days ago...

"_Welcome dudes!" America opened the door. The three had somehow arrived together. He noted as he moved to the side allowing them inside. _

"_Bonjour Amerique." France waved walking by._

"_You better have a good reason for dragging me here you bloody twat." _

"_Da." Russia agreed with a smile. _

"_Sure, sure dudes." he nervously brushed off. "But first, it's late, you all must be tired."_

_America, with three people in his house, wasn't demanding that they play one of his videogames or watch a movie? Now that they looked, there wasn't a video case or a PlayStation in sight..._

_Their host walked down the hall and opened the first door on the left. It had a gentle white carpet but everything else was covered in sunflowers. Painted, potted, real, fake and practically sprouting from the walls. America pointed to the one window in the room. "It has the best security system so you don't get any, __unwelcomed_ _visitors." _

_Russia nodded, still staring, and placed his bags next to the large mattress, staring at the walls with childlike wonder. _

_Across the hall was France's room. The carpet was a deep blue, with only a mahogany dresser and a matching bed with white sheets and a canopy on it. The dressers had a vase holding a single rose, standing proudly. The walls where a medium blue, giving the room a welcoming warm look. Like in Russia's room, there was one window that casted a faint light into the room._

_After wishing the Frenchman good night, America lead England further down the hall to a door in the middle of the right hand side._

_Lining the wall next to the bed, which was a black canopy with a Union Jack bed spread, as a bookshelf. Upon further inspection, England saw books like Harry Potter, The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Monstrous Regiment and other titles that the Brit doubted America had ever heard of. The warm scent of tea filled the room, making him drowsy. Too much so to make him wonder what America had in mind that required such attention to detail._

_The next morning, America's maids woke them with a traditional meal from their country and a handwritten letter from their host, saying the same thing._

"_While you adjust to the different time zone, I'm off visiting an old friend. If you need anything, my maids are more than happy to assist you. -America"_

_England took all his meals in his room, nose stuck in a book and lips on a tea cup. France was scouring the kitchen, admiring how many ingredients America had obtained for their visit. Russia started to familiarize himself with American television, ignoring the Russian movies until around noon. Then he found a movie called 'Anastasia' and his curiosity took over. _

_When America had returned, Russia was grumbling about how in accurate the movie had been. _

_Their host again ignored their questions of why they were there. And after dinner, he quickly disappeared to his room._

This morning, they were going to get answers.

"America."

"Yes, Arthur?"

The room went silent. They only used their human names in two instances:

1. They were in public

2. This was personal.

"What is it?" the American pressed.

"Uh, ah..." he composed himself. "Why did you call us here?"

He wiped his mouth carefully, thinking about how to word this. "All of us have lost someone dear to us." he explained slowly. "I thought we could get together and talk about it."

"No."

"Nyet."

"Non."

"I'll spill first!" America stared them down with a serious and strangely focused gaze. "And if after that, you don't want to talk, I won't force you."

The three looked between each other before nodding in unison.

"Great!" America said standing and leading them to his front room.

So this is the last segment before we hear them tell stories o3o I'm now writing this as I rediscover what happened to my research but I'm opened to event suggestions for each of the girls. I won't tell you the order after America but I'm going to try and post on Thursdays so you have until next week to tell me if you want something for America and Amelia.


	6. Love Desired Part One

First week of commitment and I fail DX. I'm so sorry for being late on this update, my teachers have been grilling me with homework for the CRTs. Next week should be on time thought *crosses fingers* History will be at the bottom if you want to read that too.

Enjoy!

America's P.O.V.

"I first met Amelia in Toronto during the Spanish Flu Pandemic in 1918." I told the other three nations. "She was a nurse at Spadina Military Hospital. I was visiting to check up on the soldiers there when I," he smiled. "Bumped, into her..."

_I turned the corner of the castle like hospital, my mind wrapped around the illness that haunted these halls. _

"_Ow!" A woman cried. I looked down to a lanky blonde woman._

"_Sorry ma'am." I mumbled helping her up. _

"_It's not a problem." she said getting the papers that I'd made her drop. _

_Embarrassed, I helped her pick them up and handed them to her. "I really am sorry about that..."_

_She smirked at me, "Then watch where you're going next time." with that she walked by me without a second glance__._(1)

_I wouldn't hear about her for another four years. My boss had called me about some dame who set the flying altitude record at 14,000 ft__._(2)_I was to go congratulate her._

_It took me awhile to find her place. So when she answered I was ready to ask her name, I'd knocked on three other doors before hers. I took one look at her and I completely forgot why I was there to begin with. _

"_Can I help you?" she asked._

"_Um, ah." I tried to compose myself._

_She leaned against the door frame, waiting for me to figure out what my tongue was doing. I recognized her from the hospital, but I hadn't gotten her name. Human memory being what it is, I wondered if she remembered me. Not that I'd given her my name either._

"_Are you alright sir?" she smirked. Finally getting a grip on myself, I held out my hand. _

"_Alfred F. Jones. Am I correct to assume that you're Miss. Amelia Earhart?"_

"_yes I am." she smiled shaking my outstretched hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Jones?"_

"_I, uh." 'Crap, why am I here?! Oh! Right, right.' "I came to congratulate you on your record."_

"_Oh really?" _

"_Yeah." I simpered, "In fact, if you have time tonight, I'd like to buy you dinner. I'd love to hear more about you." _

"_Not tonight." she told me, "I'm free tomorrow though." _

"_Great! I'll pick you up at seven."_

_That night with Amelia was just amazing._

_I can't remember where we went or what we ordered. Just the sparkle in her eyes as she told me about her first flight __(3)_ _The way her words danced in my ears while she described her lessons with Neta Snook. __(4)_ _How her smile widened as she explained every detail of the canary. __(5)_

_Every time I glanced at a clock, I wanted it to stop. It was nice being with her. But eventually I had to take her back home. Thank heaven though, I was able to see that excitement again._

_I got to be the one who handed Amelia her pilot's license from the FAI.__(6) __The excitement, the passion, the sheer joy that illuminated her eyes when I gave it to her made my heart swell. We went out to dinner again and she told me more about her life before she decided to fly._

"_I graduated from Hyde Park High School." she told me, "Then I moved to Toronto to do volunteer work as a nurse. After that I went to Northampton Massachusetts and enrolled in Pre-med program at Columbia university in New York. But enough about me. Tell me about yourself."_

_I didn't expect her to turn the conversation onto me, it being her night and all, but I tried to roll with it anyways. "Um, what do you want to know?"_

"_Do you have siblings?"_

"_One, Matthew Williams, he's my twin."_

"_Different last names?" she asked snatching her drink _

"_When our mom died, we were taken by two different foster parents." I shrugged._

"_I'm sorry to hear that." _

"_you get used to it." I stared at my food._

"_What was your mother like?" _

"_I don't really remember. I was little when it happened." I mused. "But Arthur was fun. He made me toy soldiers to play with, read me stories at night and took good care of me until I was old enough to be on my own..."_

_The conversation turned cheery and comfortable fromt here. By the end of the night, I'd gotten unspoken permission to call her Meeley.__(7)_

_That's how we lived. I'd come to visit every time she accomplished anything. I started coming on her birthday as well. We'd go out to eat, on occasion we'd go dancing to. Each time she'd fill me in on what she'd been up to. Her sinus operation, teaching job and social work in Massachusetts, membership for the American Aeronational Society's Boston chapter, newspaper column, her first time across the atlantic, the brief engagement to Chapman,__(8)_ _there were almost no secrets between us. Every Time I saw her, I loved her more and more. _

_When she got her transport license in 1930, I did the usual took her to our little cafe. The walls were a bright yellow and set of the red cushioned booths. The place was the brightest atmosphere for any form of celebration. I'd avoided everything just to see her that night. When the waitress had come and gotten our usuals jotted down though, she turned to me with a serious look on her face. _

"_Alfie," she said from across the table. "I'm getting married in February." _

_My heart sank. When she'd told me about Chapman it was just 'engaged'. The way she said 'married' sounded way too committed for my taste...or my ego..."To who?"_

"_George Putnam." _

_I wanted to protest. I was so upset and angry, how could she do that to me? 'You're doing this to yourself.' I thought. She'd never be happy with me, I was a country after all. _

"_I'm happy for you." I said looking down snagging a small glance of what seemed to be disappointment on her face. "So...I guess this'll have to stop."_

"_No." she smiled. "This is nice." _

"_Great!" I cheered. I was going to pay for this. Holy heaven was I going to pay for this. But not now, I'd pay later._

_The wedding was nothing special, but it had Amelia written all over it. I wasn't officially there not according to the newspapers at least. I stayed in the back and chuckled at how on the spot the whole thing was. As I watched Putnam vow himself to Amelia I over heard his uncle say that the groom had asked Amelia six times to marry him. Part of me felt prideful at that, maybe she was waiting for me. That part quickly died though, she waited in vain for her hero._

_That same year she flew from coast to coast and life continued as if Putnam wasn't a huge part of her's. Granted I couldn't steal her away for as long, but she never mentioned him when she would suggest going home. _

_The next five years were busy for her. The first woman to fly across the Atlantic and Pacific, coast to coast across the USA, competing in the National Air Races of '33, she won award after award and was declared America's Outstanding Airwoman.__(9) _

_She started to tell me about her dream to fly across the world. But I knew she wouldn't be able to afford it. So I pulled a few strings at a university._

"_Now, don't peak Meeley." I warned her._

"_Come now, Alfie, why would I do that?" she asked tugging lightly at my hands._

_I chuckled. We were in a bright sunny field, the wildflowers couldn't have made a better day of the sunshine. I was so excited to show her what I'd gotten for her. Nothing that Putnam would've done...but that's not the point. _

"_How much further?" she laughed as she stumbled to somewhere in the middle._

"_A few more steps..." I said testing her view and the current distance from her and the gift. "Alright...you can look." _

_My hands left her eyes and she rubbed the sunshine out of them. She stared in the direction that I turned her in with a priceless expression. Her mouth was gaping open in disbelief and she looked back to me and pointed in the distance. Laughing I nodded so she looked back and forth a few times before I finally coaxed her into running toward the brand new Lockheed Twin-engine airplane.__(10)_

"_No way!" she squealed delighted._

"_Yes way." I smiled smugly as she climbed onto a wing to see how sturdy it was. "Am I your hero yet?"_

_She stared at me, then without warning, she jumped off the wing and into my waiting arms. "You're always my hero." she sighed happily. _

"_You're going to show all of those people what you can do." I whispered. And maybe...just maybe...I'll be able to get some nerve._

_Next March she started her trip. Putnam and I said goodbye to her in California, and we got a message when she reached Hawaii. Something on the plane was damaged so she had to turn around. Of course she was disappointed to come back, but two months later she was in Florida with me for her last night before her second attempt.__(11)_

"_You don't have to go. You've done so much already." I told her. _

"_Yeah, but I can do so much more." she smiled. We were sitting in her hotel room. Mine was across the hall, my boss had asked me to escort her and I was all to gladly to do it._

"_The plane's already broken once. How do you know it isn't going to have another major problem before you finish your trip?" I demanded._

"_I don't, and I won't unless I try again." she frowned slightly, "What's wrong?" _

"_Nothing...I..." I lied. Clearly seen through by the female pilot that had flown her way into my life._

"_I don't believe you." she shook her head. "Tell me, please."_

"_I want you to stay." I told her._

"_Here?"  
"With me." _

"_Alfie..." she said._

"_Please, Meeley. Don't go." I wasn't ready to pay, I thought I had when she married Putnam but I was still swimming in debt. I couldn't let this end, not now, even if she was going to die eventually I was going to make the memories worth it._

"_Alfred." she shook her head looking down. "I have to. I want to."_

"_But..." I tried, grabbing at straws. "What if you don't come back?" _

"_Shush," she soothed stroking my hair softly. "Of course I'm coming back. And we can go to our diner across the street and I'll let you take me dancing afterwards." she smiled._

"_You promise?" I challenged._

_She looked down, wounded. Most likely because I just disrespected her word. She walked away from me and went to her closet._

"_What are you...?" I asked. But she silenced me with a simple look. I sat patiently for her to come back holding a large brown mass. Tilting my head in confusion I quietly wondered what it was. She let it come undone and revealed her leather jacket.__(12)_

"_Come here." she commanded. I obediently stood in front of her and stretched my arms when she asked. Amelia slipped the jacket over my arms, it was a miracle that it fit. "Now it'll be like I never left." she smiled. "This is my promise. Keep it warm for me, okay?"_

_My voice was lost, but I managed a nod for her. Which earned me a huge smile in return. _

"_We better get to bed." she sighed. "Big day tomorrow." _

"_Amelia?" I stopped her._

"_Yes Alfred?" _

"_When you get back..." I said clutching the edges of the jacket. "I have something I need to tell you...and...something I need to ask you."_

"_I'll look forward to it." she smiled. "Now there's no way that I won't come home."_

_In the morning we met Fred Noonan at the launch site and I waved goodbye to her for the final time..._

"My biggest regret in my existence, is that I didn't tell her right then and there what I wanted to." I stared at my hands longingly. "I let her slip through my fingers."

"What were you going to say, mon amie?" France whispered.

"I was going to tell her that I was a country." I told them. "And that, even though we'd be on different timelines, I'd give her all the love and attention she deserved and so much more." I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a little white box, placing it squarely on the table. Letting it fill the rest of the story in with it's mere presence.

-extra bit Amelia's P.O.V.- (13)

No one was answering our signals. I wasn't even sure if they were getting anywhere or not. We were going to die here, me and Noonan, on an unknown island waiting for a rescue that would never come.

"I'm sorry Alfred." I whispered to the darken sky, hoping beyond hope that my hero could hear me, or that my jacket would give him some comfort. My eyelids closed softly, wondering what on earth Alfred wanted to tell me. If it could wait for me to get back, it couldn't have been that important.

Lord I hope it wasn't important.

Sorry again for not updating when I said I would, I will strive to do better. Anyway here's the history for Amelia Earhart, which one will be next to brave a story?

1918: Amelia is a nurse during the Spainish Flu Pandemic at the Spandina military Hospital in Toronto

1922: Amelia sets the women's flying with an altitude of 14,000 ft record

1920: first flight with Frank Hawks. This is where she gets her desire to fly

1921: Finishes flying lessons with Neta Snook

1921: Purchases Kinner Airster known as the Canary

1923: 16th woman to get a pilot's license from the Federation Aeronautique Internationale (FAI)

Meeley is a childhood nickname

Events happen between 1924-1928

Events happen between June 1931-1935

1936: Purdue university provided the money for her Lockheed that she would use on her final flight.

Her second take off was from Miami, Florida

When Amelia first got her leather flying jacket, she slept in it for three days to give it a worn look. (And yes I'm making it the same jacket that America constantly wears)

This is purely my own imagination...mainly because we don't know what happened to her.


	7. Love Desired Part Two

DX another week of late updates. I'm so sorry guys! My brother got his wisdom teeth out this last week and I had to take care of him. I am officially giving up on promising consistency with updating, I clearly can't keep them. But here's the next chapter. History at the bottom if anyone wants it.

England's P.O.V.

The white box seemed to challenge me. America was willing to admit he was going to propose to a married woman. Surely I could step forward and admit to something less...

Without really thinking about it, I cleared my throat. The three sets of eyes came to me.

for a second, I froze. The fleeting moment of courage gone. Locking gazes with each one, silently having each promise that whatever was said here, stayed here, before starting.

"When Elizabeth was born in 1530,King Henry was positively livid..." (1)

"_Please, your majesty, calm down." I tried desperately as King Henry stormed about the room. Broken pots the only testimony to his fit. _

"_Calm down?" he demanded. "Calm down?! Blast it all man! Everyone said Anne would have a boy! Not this girl."_

"_You heard what she said, your highness." England soothed. "A healthy girl now, a lusty boy next. Your heir will come."_

"_It better." he grumbled._

_There was no question of Henry's feelings towards his daughter. When she was christened into the church he did not attend. Once she was three months old, her great-uncle and I escorted her through London to her home._(2)

_Her cradle was between us. It was heavily oriented, and she was fast asleep. Her uncle sighed. "This poor child. Rejected by her father simply because she wasn't a boy."_

"_I'm sure he'll come around." I assured him. "She is a princess. Once she has grow a tick, then he will accept her."_

_The carriage shook violently, causing Elizabeth's cradle to rapidly shift. We caught it in time to stop her from falling out, but not to keep her sleep. _

_Her cries quickly entered the carriage and after a moment's hesitation, I scooped her up into my arms and began to softly silence her. _

"_Well," her uncle said. "At least she'll have someone to lean on." _

_The way she felt in my arms. Slowly succumbing to slumber. The content and innocent face that gently snuggled deeper into my embrace. How on earth could anybody reject such an adorable creature?_

_We left her at a castle in Herefordshire with her half-sister Mary. She was less then...pleased..with the whole ordeal__(3). __However, King Henry took a new interest in Elizabeth, and helped Anne with her nursery._

_On one of my visits to the Princess, I met her caretaker, Lady Margaret Bryan._(4) _She had just put Elizabeth down for her nap, so we shared a cup of tea. _

"_She's so bright and loving." she told me. "She's a pleasure to watch, and care for. But one must be wary of her tantrums."_

_I chuckled. "So she can be a handful?" _

"_Only when you take something she wants." she laughed in agreement. Her gaze went to the ceiling. "Speaking of which. If you'll please excuse me Sir Kirkland." _

"_But of course, Lady Margaret. I nodded. How on earth did women know when children needed them...?_

_Satisfied that Elizabeth was safe and happy, I left to face more pressing matters in the palace._

_Her mother, Anne, had conceived twice more. The first was a miscarriage and the second; a still born. Anne was beheaded. Before Elizabeth was three, her father had remarried to Jane Seymour, who was already pregnant._

_Elizabeth was stripped of her title. By the time she was four, she'd outgrown most of her clothes, and there was no money for her to get more. Lady Margaret and myself petitioned to Jane, she showed mercy and king Henry showed more affection towards his daughter when she attended court._

_Other than the rare times that she visited court, I barely saw Elizabeth. With King Henry continually remarrying and getting annulments from past wives,_(6) _I had to much to work on. That and his only son was declared the future King of England, so I had to begin with preparations for that_

_By the time Henry died, his last wife Katharine Parr__(7)_ _had convinced him to reinstate Elizabeth's title, and she moved in with her latest step-mother. However, when he actually died, she was orphaned and lived in White Castle with Katharine._

_The poor girl was lost. In fact I believe we all were to some extent. Katharine married the lord over Prince Edward, Thomas Seymour. He and Elizabeth became good friends and gossip being what it was, turned the whole country's opinion of the two rather ill.__(8)_ _Elizabeth left her step-mother's house. Later the whole mess was investigated, scaring Elizabeth into being nothing if not a virtuous woman as to stop any further mistakes that could possibly lead to an early death._

_This entire time period was a large mess, however I was able to sneak a few hours away to be with the princess._

"_Honestly," she sighed. "England and it's politics can give one a mighty large headache."_

"_You should've seen it when it started..." I mumbled._

"_What was that?" she asked. _

"_Nothing your majesty." I took another sip of the earl gray tea in my hand. _

"_Good sir," she smiled over her cup. "you should know better than to speak untruths to me." _

"_Of course, princess."_

"_Then what did you say?" she sipped. _

"_Imagine what it would've been when it started."_

"_This country can do so much for Europe." she mumbled. "But only when the royals and nobles can forget their social standings and these marriages."_

"_Your majesty forgets." I mentioned. "Without marriage, there can be no heir. And with no heir, there is no ruler."_

"_And with no ruler we English will be as lost as blind bats in the day." she sighed. "I fear the day that I too must submit to such needs of society." _

"_It is necessary your highness." _

"_Perhaps you are right." she agreed. With a glint in her eye that suggested I wasn't. _

_Elizabeth's life was nothing but a large mess that someone decided to sort out. Imprisoned by her half-sister on false charges, deaths of several that somehow affected her status in society, finally she ascended to the throne. The people of England loved her._

"There wasn't a spot in Europe that she didn't touch and change. However, when she was told to marry she claimed that she was already married." I smiled at the memory.

_It wasn't official. Not even close. But it did make me smile everyday. It was a traditionally muddy day in England, it was just me, her and our private joke. I can't remember the exact date. She just woke up one morning and said the next day she would commit herself to her country and that it translated into an "unofficial" wedding. _

_There was nothing that was traditional about the whole thing. The dress she wore was a beautiful orange, not a stitch of white on it. We didn't have a pope and we wrote our own vows._

"_Do you, Sir Arthur Kirkland take me Queen Elizabeth the first as your unlawfuly wedded wife?" she asked in a mocked serious tone._

"_I do." I said with the same level of mockery for our private event. "And do you, Queen Elizabeth the first, take me, Sir Arthur Kirkland as your unlawfuly wedded husband?"_

"_I do." _

"_Then may I kiss the bride?"_

"_No." she smirked. _

_I gently grabbed her hand and kissed each of the delicate rings on her fingers. Kiss, "Your highness." Kiss. "Majesty." Kiss. "Greatness." Kiss. "My ruler." I kissed the final ring, the one on her wedding finger. "My queen." _

_To this day, I'm unsure if she had any form of seriousness to it or not. But she never failed to smile when I would take her hand, kiss the ring on her wedding finger and whisper "My queen." showing that I still honored our mock wedding._

_To her final days, I remained faithful to Elizabeth, promising to never leave her side unless she asked. Always losing people, times constantly changing as well as the people who surrounded her, she deserved someone who would stay faithful by her side. I had decided that was to be me. I was her country. She had known it when she had taken the crown. So on her right side was where I stayed, she would never be alone again in her life as long as Great Britain stood tall, proud, and very much alive._

"I failed her." I whispered at the end of my tale. "I wasn't there for her last moments. I knew she was dying, I could feel it. And yet I left her in someone else's hands, left her to be tended by other's who didn't know anything about how to treat her."

"What was it that took her, mon amie?" France prodded.

"Heartache." I answered. "Something that I alone, could've fixed. I was the only one who loved her from the start, and the only one who loved her far past her end."

-Extra Bit Elizabeth's P.O.V.-

My heart is breaking. Here in the dead of night. I've lost so many and in my old age, I simply can take no more. My apologies, my dear knight, that I can't hold on long enough to see your beautiful emeralds for eyes one last time. Even though they are the only things that I can see as my eyes shut for the final time.

I hope he takes good care of himself. Nothing will be worse for the motherland if the country is wrought with grief for one ruler among many. I give my last prayer to him, that he'll be strong through this time, that he'll know forever and always,

I am married to my country.(9)

One more down. Two more countries left! Here's the history behind this O3O

1. Elizabeth was born September 7th 1533 at Greenwich Palace. Everyone predicted a boy and Henry was not happy when his wife gave birth to his second girl.

2. Gaining a home of your own at only three months was simply the etiquette of this era.

3. Mary was 17 when Elizabeth was born. Henry demanded she give up her title as Princess of Wales and become Lady Mary. She was also declared illegitimate. And when she was told to pay her respects to the newborn, she cried saying she knew no other princess than herself. SHe lived with Elizabeth as subservient. She never liked Elizabeth.

4. A baroness who Elizabeth called Muggie. She was also caregiver to her half-sister Mary and half-brother Edward.

5. May 19,1536. Anne Boleyn is beheaded on tower hill on charges of treason, adultery and incest.

6. Henry the VIII is famous for having 6 wives during his reign.

7. Katharine was the only one of Henry's wives who lived.

8. There was a rumor going around England that Queen Elizabeth was having an affair with Thomas. After the investigation it was publicly announced that nothing had happened between them. However, Thomas was killed for high treason.

9. She did in fact say those words and I couldn't ignore that. XD


	8. Love Desired Part Three

Sorry for not updating for a while DX I've been way busy trying to save my math grade, but schools out now so only my family, Facebook and Youtube channel can distract me now. And (on the unintentional upside) I'm posting this on the day Joan of Arc actually died.

Okay that was more morbid than I thought...Anyways...

*Updated* This has been updated to include the history behind the chapter I'm currently in a rather nasty rut of writer's block but I have future chapters planned and written...it's just Russia that's giving me issues. I promise to update soon.

France's P.O.V.

The room was eerily silent. England's story leaving us all with a feeling of regret. Granted there weren't a ton of other emotions that could fill that. The only two who had yet to tell their tale were Russia and I, and it seemed like the scary Russian was waiting for me to tell. With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and pulled out an old envelope. Yellowed slightly with time, but the writing on it could still be clearly read. "This," I gestured to it, "is a letter from Jeane d'arc to the Dauphin of France in 1431..."(1)

"_Preposterous." Charles __(2) __muttered throwing tossing the letter he'd opened two seconds ago back onto the table._

"_What, sir?" I asked stepping up to his side._

"_This girl." he sighed, "She keeps sending these letters asking to lead the army."_

"_A girl?" _

"_Oui," he rubbed his temples. "Jeane D'arc." _

"_I don't believe I've heard of her." I muttered._

"_I don't have time for it." Charles stood. "We're in a war, the last thing I need is a woman sending consent letters to me about her desire to lead the French the victory against the English." _

"_Sir," a page knocked. "I think you should look out your window."_

"_What is it?" he asked as I peered through the window from the high tower and saw a company of horses. _

"_People to see you?" I suggested._

"_One says they are Jeane D'Arc." The page informed us, we looked at each other in shock. "She claims that God has commanded her to put you on the throne." (3)_

"_Oh has she?"_

"_My lord?" I asked. _

"_If God has sent her, then we shall test her." he said. "Bring me the clothes of one of my courtiers." he commanded. Then turned to me. "You shall dawn my robes and pretend to be Dauphin."_

"_Sir?" I questioned._

"_If God has truly sent her," he reasoned. "Then she will know who I am." _

_When everyone had changed to test the maiden, I was escorted to the court. I'll admit that I did enjoy the role, sitting in my boss's chair, waiting to see the girl who claimed such impossible things. _

_She entered in and at first I thought she was a man. Her hair was cropped short and she wore men's clothing. To everyone's surprise, she kneeled down in front of the Dauphin in the midst of the crowd. _

"_God give you a happy life, sweet king." she said solemnly to him. __(4)_

"_I am not." he told her, then pointed to me. "That man is." _

"_You try to trick me, sweet Dauphin" she smiled. "But I will not be so easily fooled." _

_It went back and forth like that for a while, eventually he gave in and told them that he was indeed, who she claimed. _

_They quickly went into his chamber's to talk. I on the other hand was forced to give up the clothes that I had borrowed and return to my usual decor. Once they had come back out, Charles declared that he believed the girl, and was putting her in charge of the army._

_I was surprised to say the least, but he was my boss, I wasn't going to argue._

_She met me in the armory where I was to give her all of the necessities of war. As I was handing her the armor I couldn't help but try to get to know her better._

"_So, what is a beautiful girl like you doing getting herself into a war like this?" I asked._

"_God told me to." she said with confidence unmeasured. "And who am I to ignore a direct order from God?"_

"_War is messy and scarring." I warned her. "Why would God send such a beautiful flower into it?"_

"_I know not of his reasons." she shrugged. "I only listen, trust and keep faith that he has something planned for me."_

_Over the next few months, with her at the head of the army. Charles was crowned in Reims.(5) I had only heard of that, but I was there at the battle of Orleans. She plunged into the fight fearless, encouraging her soldiers to do the same. I quickly found England and launched into a battle with him._

"_What? You've gotten so desperate that you're asking a girl to help?" He sneered, "A sinner of a girl at that." _

"_Look around you Angleterre." I pushed back, knocking him to the ground. "France is winning thanks to that girl." _

"_That girl will burn for her sins." he said. His army was retreating, we had won back Orleans. "One way or another, she will burn." _

_In that moment, I feared for Jeane, but as I looked over to her, a victorious smile on her face as the men cheered "The maiden of Orleans." (6)I couldn't bring myself to worry. This was a victory against England. For now, I'd celebrate. _

_She was involved in every attack on every level, she was busy beyond belief, but I was able to steal time alone with her. One of these times, I took her to my house where I introduced her to the little country who was living with me._

"_Jeane, this is Canada." I told her, I'd long sinced explained the personified countries part of me. _

"_Oh, isn't he just adorable~!" she cooed. He giggled and whispered._

"_Hello." which made her smile even more. _

_We spent the rest of the day just being together. She noticed that Canada kept calling me Papa and asked if he had a mother (or at least a motherly figure)._

"_Non." I sighed. "I'm afraid it's just us." _

"_Well then." she looked at Canada who was staring at her trying to get her attention. "I'll be your mama." _

"_You don't have to-"_

"_Mama Jeane!" he squealed, running into her arms. I chuckled, _'Perhaps after the war we should make that official.' _I thought momentarily. But it was lost in the giggles that Canada was making. I don't remember him being so bold._

_Joan was captured soon after that day. By the Burgundies, I wasn't there at the battle, there were matters to deal with at home. I didn't even hear about it until her ransom was sent to France._

"_We can't afford it." Charles said._

"_Can't afford it?!" I roared. "She's the only reason that you're on the throne, that we've gotten this far in the war!"_

"_I'm sorry." he said. "but we just can't." (7)_

_A few months later her trials began. England allowed me to visit her often. I kept trying to convince her to renounce everything that she fought for. The king wasn't on her side so she didn't need to fight for him anymore, but she refused. She stuck to it until the end. And though she proved very wise to the men who were judging her, she ended up being sentenced to burning. _

_I remember the last night I had with her, almost like it was yesterday._

"_Take good care of Canada." she said. "Make sure he grows up big and strong." _

"_Of course, ma cherie." I whispered. "But it's not too late. Please, you can still give this up and live. You can still help me with Canada." _

"_I can't." she stated simply. "God has a reason for this. Even if it is one that I do not like. He will protect me until the very end." _

"_If you stay like this that will be tomorrow." I mumbled. _

"_My dear France." she pulled my head into her lap and stroked it softly, "Promise me something?"_

"_Anything." _

"_Promise that you'll grow strong." she smiled. "Promise that you'll keep fighting, and that, no matter what, you'll always smile."_

"_Ma cherie..." I whispered._

"_Promise me." _

"_...oui. Je promette." (I promise)_

"_Merci." _

"_Jeane?" I decided to take the jump. "I know...you believe that God is with you. But...would you allow me to be there too?"_

"_And how would you do that?" She frowned. _

_I held out a small modest ring. "Wear this?"_

_She smiled and held out her hand. I tried to ignore that she offered her left as I slipped it onto her ring finger. _

"_Time to go, frog." England came in. His voice sounded almost sad. Almost. _

"_Au revoir, My maiden of Orleans. My Joan." I said, kissing her hand._

"_Why are you saying goodbye?" she questioned with a grin. "We'll meet again. Maybe not soon, but we will." _

"_Of course, ma cherie," I winked. "à bientôt." (until we meet again)_

_I walked out the door and as I shut it I heard the two talking. _

"_I do not fear death." Jeane stated. "Nor do I fear you."_

"_Oh really? Well, I do not fear that voice in your head you call God." England muttered coldly. _

"_I can promise you sir, God will not let me down." _

"_And neither my dear, shall I." _

"The next morning, Joan was burned at Rouen." I finished into my hands. "I found Canada just a few streets over and worried he'd seen. Not for too long though. He was never that loud or bold again...in fact...he got quiet after mama left." I smiled sadly. "But I kept my promise, I watched over Canada, and tried to smile as often as I could. Even tried to spread the happiness around."

"Francis..." England muttered. "I...I always meant to apologize for that." he blushed looking down. "When Elizabeth died I was beginning to write you a letter of apology, for taking someone you loved so much away, but my new boss wouldn't hear of it."

"It is alright." I smiled. "God is watching over both of us now."

-Extra bit Joan's P.O.V.-

The orange flames that lick my body, the smoke that fills my lungs with darkened smoke, the cheers of victory and cries to stop are far from enough to stop me from seeing France and his pain. I can only hope that he does as he promised.

The ring on my finger melts into the skin, but I don't care. In heaven it'll mark me as his. My eyes scan the crowd looking at the faces that watched me in my final moments. My eyes catch a sign of violet under blonde. My gaze locks with Canada's, his eyes welling up in tears. I try to compose my gaze into a loving one, promising him everything will be alright, he runs off not too long after that.

So I look back to France, yes, they are my final sight of life, and I can't be happier.

Again, I didn't mean for commitment to fly out the window. But we have one more chapter like this and then we're two thirds of the way done! *cheers* Thank you all for staying with me during my two weeks of Hiatus, I'll try to do better.

History: *updated* Again, I'm staring at the computer screen willing for some form of inspiration. I'm going to try and update within the week.

1. Joan of Arc actually sent multiple letters before she actually went to the Dauphin herself.

2. Charles VII of France

3. After being ignored in her letters, she convinced men to escort her to Chinon, where the Dauphin was since Reims, Orleans and Paris where being occupied or fought for by the British.

4. When he was told of the girl's arrival, the Dauphin had one of his court members dressed in his clothes and they traded places. When she entered, she found the Dauphin hidden among his court members. She knelt down and said "God give you a happy life, sweet king." After he tried many times to deter her, he eventually told her that she was right and had a private talk with her. Nobody knows for sure what was said, but it was enough to convince Charles that she was indeed sent from God and had her sent her to Reims.

5. Charles was crowned somewhere around July 1429

6. This is one of the names Joan of arc had. (So was Jeane but that's the French pronunciation I think.)

7. She was captured in Paris by the Burundians (An ancient culture of Western German barbarians settled south of France) They had a large ransom for her which the Dauphin didn't pay. Soon after she was tried for wearing men's clothing and being a witch over the next year, only to be executed by burning.


	9. Love Desired Part Four

A/N yay! I finally got over my writers block! :D here's the next chapter.

Russia's P.O.V.

I smiled at the other three in the room as France finished his story. It was nice to have all of us there for a nice talk. Three sets of eyes, two blue one green, looked at me expectantly. But I ignored them. I would tell in my own time.

"How about a lunch break?" America suggested. Clearly nervous that I wasn't going to spill. Hasty nods of agreement followed the suggestion as France and England began fighting over who was going to be cooking the meal. I stayed in my seat in the now empty room, contemplating what I would tell my comrades. I was Russia, I could not show weakness like this. Even if they were foolish enough to.

The more I thought about it, the more memories seemed to flow through my mind. I was only vaguely brought back from my day dreaming when America snapped me out of it with a sandwich.

"Russia dude, are you-"

"Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova." I interrupted. England and France entered the room with sandwiches on plates, England with tea while France and America carried mugs of coffee. "She was the youngest daughter to Tsar Nicholas the second of Russia..." (1)

_I was at the castle while the Empress was in labor, playing with Olga, Tatiana and Maria._(2) _Just giggling and chasing each other around the echoing halls. After hours of running and laughing, ignoring the turmoil just outside that plagued the country, Tsar Nicholas came and invited me to see the Grand Duchess, Anastasia._

_She seemed like any other child, crying like all newborns, proving that she was alive and well. I didn't really care until several weeks later, when I finally saw her eyes. They sparkled with mischief and delight but most importantly an innocence that begged to be maintained. _

_The first few years of her life were filled with army beds, a new but sickly baby brother named Alexi, her mother teaching her English and Russian until she got a swiss tutor, and running in the empty halls. (3)_

_Her days were filled with needle work and studies. Somehow though, she managed to get away with many things. Granted I may have helped her a few times. An innocent grab at a cookie, tricking the guards into believing they were being haunted, innocent fun._

"_Ivan." she whispered after one of our tricks on the guards. "You won't tell on me will you?"_

"_Why would I do that?" I asked surprised. "It would get me in trouble too."_

"_Pinky promise." she demanded holding out her hand. With a hearty chuckle, I extended my pinky to her and we promised. "We should go before mama comes and catches us." _

"_Why don't you go do your needlework?" I suggested. _

"_I'm just awful at it." she complained, leading the way to where they kept that supplies. _

"_I'll show you how." I offered. Ukraine had taught me a little and I could definitely give her a few pointers. She smiled, that was a sight that I'd cherish forever. _

_Then Rasputin came. The empress would practically worship him. I didn't like him, neither did the people. We all thought he was a shady character. (4) Anastasia was scared of him so I made sure to keep a large amount of space between them. But he was pushing the boundaries I'd set up around her. But I quickly fixed that problem.(5)During his stay however, he caused much grief for the Grand Duchess._

_Once, in the middle of the night, there was a small knocking at my door. Worn with fatigue, and maybe a hangover, I looked ready to yell at who dared to wake me up at such an hour when I saw her standing in the doorway. _

"_Anastasia?"_

"_I...I had a nightmare." she mumbled. "Could..."_

_I smiled and opened my arms to her. She crawled immediately next to me and snuggled under the blankets. I chuckled. I'd have to get her back when she was sound asleep. But for now I'd let her stay. She was cold, who knew how long she'd stood at the door. Careful not to crush her, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer. She didn't object, in fact she snuggled closer. _

"_Ivan?" she mumbled. _

"_Go to sleep." I playfully groaned._

"_I want you to promise something." she stated fighting a yawn. _

"_Hm?" _

"_Promise you'll always comfort me." she demanded._

"_Of course, Grand Duchess." I answered in a tiered response._

"_Pinky promise." _

_I sighed dramatically, "Alright, if it'll get you to go to sleep."_

"_It will." she insisted sitting up on the bed and offering her pinky. After I'd allowed mine to loosely attach itself around her's she sank back into the sheets and cuddled closer to my warmth. I waited for her to fall into a deep sleep before I wrapped her in the blanket and carried her back to her room. She looked so peaceful when she slept. _

_Not much happened between then and when Nicholas abdicated his throne.(6)The royal family was taken prisoner and sent to Siberia. The girls weren't allowed to be without a guard(7) so of course I volunteered for Anastasia. No one argued._

_Siberia was cold and unforgiving, much like the country that threw the family there to rot. But I was there, I tried to make them forget, make her forget. _

"_Ivan!" She cried desperately one night. The darkness was unbreakable, I could barely see her hands grasping madly for something among the purple sheets. "Ivan!" she cried again. Tears spilling into her words, fear weaving it's way into her flailing limbs. _

"_What is wrong?" I asked standing next to her bedside._

"_I...I" she stammered. "I had a nightmare." _

_I smiled warmly, "I am right here." I sat next to the bed and felt her grasping in the dark for me. I gave her my hand as a help. She was in her early teens, she understood why I couldn't climb into the bed with her like I once allowed her in her youth, but this was enough. _

"_Promise you'll never leave me." she whispered as she fell asleep._

"_I promise." I said, wrapping my pinky around hers. "Pinky promise." _

_As soon as she was asleep I stood and went outside. __Yurovsky stood waiting, leaning against a worn out wall. "Are they all there?" he asked. _

"_Yes, but-"_

"_We're not attacking yet," he assured me. "we need to wait until there aren't as many guards around. You're doing a fine job. Keep us updated." with a shared nod, he left, and I returned to the family that I would soon betray._

"That was the night before they were murdered." I stated calmly. "I told on them...I left them...I wasn't there to comfort her. I'd broken every promise we'd made." briefly, my eyes casted upwards to see their faces, "The next time I saw them, her, I lied to them and said it'd be alright. The next time I carried her, she was dying, and it was my fault. The last time I saw her alive, I ended her with my own hands, half pleased half disgusted." Their faces amused me, so filled with horror and shock.

"How old was she?" America whispered. "When..."

"Seventeen." I said. And after a small staring contest I continued on a tangent. "Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova. That name brings so much conflict to me. It stabs me every time it's mentioned. The people who impersonate her make me want to hurt them for trying to pull of such a beautiful girl...for making me believe that maybe that last bit...the one where I killed her...was nothing but a dream of a broken promise."(8)

-Extra bit Anastasia's P.O.V.-

It's madness. Chaos that fills the room. All I can see is Ivan who's standing in a corner, unsure like a child who had just let go of his mother's hand. The smoke fills, then it clears and everything's black. So, it's just another nightmare? Which means if I call for Ivan he'll make it go away.

"Ivan..." my voice is weaker than I thought it'd be in this land of dreams. But I'm thrilled when I see him, blurry he may be, he was here.

Time has no meaning, there's gentle rocking beneath me, he's trying to soothe me back to sleep. I wish I could smile, that I could feel and know what was going on. But it seems this dream has other plans. I feel a hand in mine, I search for his pinky. I think I've found it! So I entangle mine with it. He kept his promise to be here.

I feel movement again. My arms are being moved and there's a heavy pain. Like I'm holding something up. I hear crunching snow and vaguely wonder where this dream came from. It's so different from the others.

There it is. The pain, something's stabbing me. That means I'll wake up now.

I'll see you when I wake up, Ivan.

A/N okay! We only have five chapters left!

*America* Five?! But there are only four of us!

*me* Shush child, I have plans.

Anyways, sorry for long period of no updating. I have all but two of the last chapters written and will (hopefully) be able to finish this story sometime this week. Thank you for putting up with me and my fickle updating. What should I write next? I'm working on something but I'm not sure if I'll post it. Review or PM any request 'cause I'm bored and willing. There's a one shots story on my profile if you want to check that out too.

History behind this chapter:

1. Basically her full name and her place in the family

2. Her three older sisters

3. She slept on an army bed, as she and her sisters were raised in the simplest way possible. She had to do her own cleaning and needlework. But she still managed to have her fun with getting in trouble around the castle without getting caught; she was bilingual but her Russian was more childish since she was never outside; she had a younger brother named Alexi who had haemophilia which meant if he go cut or bruised he could bleed to death.

4. Rasputin convinced the empress that he was a Holy man who could heal Alexi. But nobody was a real fan...he was rude, constantly drunk and made the family look bad.

5. Eventually a small group of men invited Rasputin for a drink. It was poisoned but he wasn't affected by it. Next they tried to shot him, but he survived two rounds. On the third round he fell and his attackers threw him over a bridge. Later his body was found and they found that he actually died of drowning.

6. In 1917 Nicholas was forced to give up his throne.

7. The Romanovs moved to Siberia, they were not allowed outside so guards followed them everywhere, even to the bathroom.

8. There have been many impersonators of Anastasia over the years.


	10. Love Found Part One

England

The salty air stung at the Brit's eyes but he refused to close them. What was the whole point of America's little exercise? To help heal the wound? To show someone else was there if they needed it? In his opinion, all they'd accomplished was tearing open scars and revealing weakness to some of the most powerful countries on earth.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone running into him. "Oh! I'm so sorry sir."

"No, no you're quiet-" he looked at her. That face, that voice, it couldn't' be. "Alright." he breathed.

She stared at him before breaking into a smile that tugged at England's heart. "There's dancing over there." she pointed. "I guess I got a little more dizzy than I thought."

"Oh, yes I see." England tore his eyes away. There's no way this woman was her. No physically possible way. Somewhere in the background, he heard girls giggling and in self consciousness turned around.

The girls went into a fit of laughter at his flush, then they all scurried away.

"Friends of yours?" he coughed awkwardly.

"No," she sighed. "Just some random girls who got me a few drinks."

"Just for the fun of it?" he pressed.

"No, um." she stood next to him, following his gaze over the ocean. "I'm a newly made orphan, only child so I decided to take a trip to get away from it."

"I'm so sorry." England mumbled. They were so similar in appearance, situation, in everything. The pain in her eyes made England's heart break, and a sudden desire to change it filled him. "Tell me, what's your name love?"

"Brenda."

"Well then, Brenda, would you do me the honor of a dance?" he held out his hand.

She blushed but nodded and took his outstretched hand. Soon they were slowly spinning to their own music.

"Do you know the significance of this vessel?" England asked solemnly.

"It was named after Queen Elizabeth the first." she smiled. "The Queen who 'married her country'. This is it's final voyage."

"Clever girl, aren't you?" he smiled warmly.

This man believed in fairies, unicorns, flying mint bunnies and once, just for tonight, he'd believe in a miracle.

A/N So we've got England wrapped up. I'm going to upload one more chapter today...maybe more if I get them typed up. Basically today is massive update day...but that's better than weeks of nothing right?


	11. Love Found Part Two

A/N I just realized how much longer this is compared to England's...Oh well I think this is the longest one for this section anyways.

America

"Yahoo!" America yelled on the top of his lungs as the roller coaster dropped two hundred feet. Laughing at how everyone else was screaming their heads off. When the ride was over, he jumped off still laughing. "I guess that's why they call it the Wicked." he cheered.

Everyone had left his house a few days ago, and though he wasn't sure if the others benefited from the unorthodox meeting, he felt great. He'd finally gotten all that baggage off his chest and now he wouldn't annoy Tony with constant storytelling.

He wandered around the park, eventually finding a completely plane based ride. With a huge child like smile that made his eyes sparkle, he hurried to the line behind a blonde girl with a bob cut.

As America got closer the girl in front of him began talking. He could've sworn she sounded familiar. However, before he could get her to turn around, they were allowed onto the platform to get on the ride.

The mysterious girl went off on her own so the American followed. She turned around to sit and her face made his mind go blank. His legs kept moving until he was right next to her. Then he noticed that the seat next to her was taken. Without missing a beat he went to the row behind them.

For the next few hours, America followed that girl. He learned quickly that she was alone and a sudden sense of protectiveness over came him.

Without any form of warning, she started to run into the middle of the park. Without a moments hesitation, America sprinted after her calling "Wait!" They weaved through the crowds and eventually America caught up and grabbed her arm. "Please, I just want to talk."

She fought his grip. "Why are you following me?!" she demanded.

This made America freeze. "I." he stuttered. "I wanted to-"

"Wanted to what?" she glared at his pause.

"I don't know." he admitted. He wanted this to be real, he wanted her to be her.

"You don't know?" she repeated, stopping her struggling.

"No," his voice was strained. "I-I don't."

"You okay?" she tilted her head.

"Yeah." he coughed. "I just thought you were...an old friend."

"Oh." she blinked.

"S-sorry if I scared you." America straightened, "How about I get you lunch?"

"It's okay I can-" she reached into her pocket. "Oh crap!" she panicked.

"What's wrong?"

"My wallet!" she stated. "I don't know where it is!"

"Let me help you find it." America offered. She studied him for a minute, as if trying to guess his intent. But one puppy dog stare made her nod her head in defeat and they made their way further into the park. A wave of people surged between them, separating them. America was forced to a lost and found so with a shrug he began sifting through the belongings.

Eventually, he found a black wallet with an airplane embroidered into it. Opening it he found an I.D. with the girl's picture and the name Candace. Satisfied, he headed back out to the park where they were separated and continued where the crowd had swept Candace away.

He searched for an hour, the whole time the sunny weather had gone south and it was starting to rain. He was about to give up when he heard a soft sniffling. America followed the noise, which lead him to a uni-gender bathroom where Candace was huddled under one of the sink counters.

"Candace?" America called softly. She looked up shocked to see him. He held up her wallet. "I found it."

She nodded but didn't move. So America went to her. She was visibly shaking. "Are you cold?" she shook her head. "Don't like the rain?" she shook her head again. He thought for a moment. "Are you lost?" she finally nodded and tears streamed down her cheeks. Tenderly, America took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her. "Well, I found you." he whispered. "So you shouldn't be afraid anymore, Candace."

"Candy." she croaked looking at him. "Call me Candy."

"I'm Alfred." he smiled hugging her. "Alfie it you want."

"Alfie..." she breathed deeply. "What happened to your old friend?"

"She got lost." he whispered. "No one could find her, she gave me that jacket as a promise that she'd come back."

"But she didn't." she sniffled.

"That depends on how you look at it." America said. "I feel her every time I wear it."

"It's warm." she sighed sticking her hands in the pockets.

"That's her." he smiled.

"What's this?" she asked pulling a white box out of the jacket pocket.

"That was for her." America whispered. Candy opened the box to a simple ring with a single diamond and a gold band.

"Its beautiful." she breathed.

"Then keep it." he shrugged. "It deserves someone who'll wear it."

"T-thank you." she smiled putting it on her finger. "What was her name?"

"Amelia." he smiled, holding Candy closer. She chuckled softly.

"Guess this makes you my hero." her eyes sparkled.

"Guess it does." he chuckled with her.

'_I finally saved you.'_


	12. Love Found Part Three

A/N Hello again! This is the most constant I've been with updates and we only have two more chapters to go. ;.; On the plus side...I get to have my first complete story soon ^^

Russia:

Russia trudged through the bitter wind, a bottle of vodka hanging loosely in his grip. He'd left the bar early in hopes that he'd be sober enough to find his way home without help. Well he was, just not enough to feel like every step burned.

He'd never told anyone about her. It had been years since everything happened, yet if still shook him to the core.

Maybe he should've stayed a little longer...

Suddenly he stopped. He could've sworn he heard something to his right. He turned and saw two shadowy figures over one that seemed crumpled on the ground. Normally, he would have just kept on walking, it was none of his business. But this time it felt horribly wrong to walk away.

Maybe that was the vodka...

Never the less, he made his way to the three shadows. Before he even got right next to them, he was happy he followed his instinct. There were two men hovered over an unconscious girl. The looks on their faces made it clear that they were not planning to help her.

"Hello comrades." he waved in Russian. He internally chuckled at how shocked they were at his presence "What happened to her?"

They mumbled half heard responses before holding guns to his head. He simply smiled. Behind them, the girl woke up. Russia noticed that she was tied, gagged and her eyes were wide with fear. The rest of her, however, was buried in coats.

"Do not worry." he assured her. "You will be safe."

"Do not make promises you can not keep." One of the men sneered. He shot a bullet straight at Russia's chest. The girl let out a muffled scream but then froze in terror and awe.

"That tickled, comrade." he smiled, a purpled arua heavily outlined his figure. The two men shrunk back slightly and Russia saw his chance. "Boo."

"Ah!" They ran screaming. Russia let out a dark chuckle before turning his attention to the bound girl.

First he got the gage off so she could breath then moved to her wrists. "T-thank you." she stuttered in shaky Russian. Her accent sounded American, she must've been a tourist.

"Of course." he smiled. "Where were you going? I'll help you get there."

"My hotel." she stated, "But I got lost...in the dark."

"I can see that, da?" he chuckled. "Why don't we we go to my home and call a ride for you?"

Gingerly, she nodded and Russia took her hand leading her to his home. It felt familiar, and warm despite the cold.

He opened the front door and closed it as soon as the girl was inside. "Do you know the hotel's number?" he asked.

"N-no." she shook violently. Russia took a closer look at her and noticed where she'd gotten her coat.

"You bought that in America." he stated gesturing to her ensemble of fake furs.

"Yes."

"They will do nothing for you here in Russia." he informed her. "Take them off and I'll let you have one of mine."

"I can't take one of-"

"I insist." He shrugged as he made his way to the closet. "You do not want to be cold do you?"

"O-okay." she nodded taking off three layers of American coats. Did she really think more layers would make a difference?

"This one will be a little big on you, but it should do." Russia said. He turned around to give the girl one of his old trench coats when he finally got a good look at her.

It couldn't be.

Her hair looked to be a little longer, just by half an inch or so. Her face had a healthy glow to it with brown eyes that hide mischief within.

"Is something wrong?" she asked when she noticed his stare.

"No...you must be cold." he gave her the trench coat. "There's a blanket on the couch, why don't you warm up there and I'll make you something to drink. For your nerves."

"You're too kind." she smiled. "I don't even know your name yet."

"Ivan." he said quickly.

"Dominique." she told him.

She wrapped herself up in the blanket on the couch, watching Russia very closely. When he handed her a glass of hot chocolate, she scooted over so there was room for him on the couch.

"So you do not remember where your hotel is," Russia pondered aloud. "or the number for it?"

"Yeah...I know...pretty stupid. I just got here and thought I'd be back before dark." she blushed.

"Why before dark?" Russia took a sip of his drink thoughtfully.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" she asked. Almost like a child.

"Who would I tell?"

"Promise."

"Alright, I promise I won't tell anyone." Russia nodded.

"Pinky promise?"

Well, that hit him hard. "What?"

"Pinky promise." she said, bringing her hand out from the blankets. "It's something we do in America."

"I know what it is," Russia softly smiled. "I just wasn't sure if I heard you right." he took her pinky with his and held it there tightly.

"I'm terrified of the dark." she admitted. Her gaze seemed entranced by their hands. "When the sunsetted and I found out that I was nowhere near the hotel I panicked and those two thugs found me."

"Stay here tonight." Russia suggested. "If you're so scared of the dark then you can stay here until morning and then I'll escort you to your hotel."

"You've done so much already though."

"I insist."

"You seem to do that alot."

"Da, and I get what I want, so I suggest you make yourself comfortable, because you're staying here tonight."

"Keep your hands to yourself and sure."

A few hours later, Russia was turning off the T.V. they'd been watching some random thing on the news while getting to know each other better. Dominique was asleep on the couch, still wrapped snuggly in the blanket. Russia picked her up so that he didn't wake her and walked her to a guest bedroom. It felt good to carry her again, even if it wasn't really her.

The next morning he'd have to wake her up, make sure she got to her hotel in one piece and maybe convince her to have breakfast before leaving him completely. He was contemplating how much of his day would be lost to her tomorrow as he tucked her lovingly into bed. Not that he minded, she was alright, she was here, and this time he'd save her.

He slowly closed the door, making sure to keep the sleeping girl in his sight until the lock clicked. Then Russia strode down the hall to his room. Praying he wasn't sleeping and would wake up to an empty guest bedroom and a hangover. After all...

a man can dream, right?


	13. Love Found Part Four

A/N Todays the day! I'm going to finish this! I didn't get to update these last two days cause I was building a fence. So here's France~!

France

"I'm sorry I have not been by to visit recently." France mumbled with a small smile tugging gently at his lips.

In front of him was a colorfully ornamented cross that stood as a reminder to his precious Maid of Orleans. In his hands was a bouquet of red and white roses in blue wrapping held together by a delicate white bow. He'd been meaning to visit more often, but politics had gotten in the way. Today though, something different settled in the air, so he all but ignored his bosses orders and went out on the town.

"Canada's grown quite a bit since you cast saw him." he continued. He was talking to an old friend after all, one who couldn't reply, but a friend all the same. "He has my hair, I've stayed strong, and smiling all for you." he paused then lightly chortled. "I know I'm a sentimental old fool. But at least I'm your fool, non?"his smile was heartbreaking, the shine in his eyes a mere echo of what it could be, of what it was.

"I'm afraid I must be off now." he sighed placing the flowers down. "I won't be gone for so long this time." he turned and left the cemetery site, heading for the town.

Perhaps America's little experiment worked. He felt light as air after thinking of Joan again but he felt his heart sinking as well. To make matters worse, he could've sworn that he could see her face in the crowd.

Trying to ignore it, he struck up a conversation with a local merchant. Not really knowing what they were discussing. His eyes wandered back to where he thought that face was, just to prove it'd been a trick of the light.

But it wasn't. There she was, holding a camera, did she just take his picture?

And that was how that marvelous day had started. After awkward stumblings and a frenchman's over zealous attitude, the two went on a tour of France discussing the Hundred Years War and the figure whom France had visited just that morning.

At sunset, France openly marveled at her presence. At last, a chance to tell her, Joan, how he felt without a tower surrounding them, a locked door barring them, a fire waiting for them. But he needed to be careful, because he didn't want to scare the poor girl off. But he did learn that her name was Lisa, he would hold that name close to his heart.

When her attention was towards the beautiful view, France slipped away and watched her reaction. After a few minutes of searching she left and France took the spot he'd earlier vacated. He looked down and saw the girl eagerly. Walking through the streets, snapping pictures at a rapid pace. France chuckled. But that sound soon died.

"Live well," he sighed. "Do whatever your heart desires, Lisa."

A few days later, France was about to leave the the cross again when a man stopped him. "You know," he said. "on May 30th every year at exactly midday, the sun hits that cross just right and it literally looks like it's on fire."

France flinched internally, but decided that since that fateful day was tomorrow, he'd go and see for himself.

Midday the next day brought a beautiful sight for him. When the sun was in the highest point in the sky, the jewels on the cross began to sparkle. The gold it was made from glittered along to the ballet of color and sun. Erupting into a warm flame of beauty and promise. And when he looked closer, he saw a girl. Sitting on the top with a determined glint in her eye and a stern smirk on her lips.

'_I promise France.'_ he heard it say to him. '_Goodbye, thank you, I love you.'_

"Je t'aime aussi, Lisa, ma maid d'orleans, Joan d'arc...

Ma Jeane."

A/N There is actually a cross made for Joan to honor her memory. The last bit is more or less the extent of my three years of French and I'm not sure it's conjugated so...if you know it's wrong please tell me.


	14. Epilouge

Epilogue

Lisa entered her apartment building after having a drink with her mom at a café telling about her recent trip to France. Almost immediately her phone went wild. She flipped it open, she was being texted.

Brenda: Are you back yet? Dominique'll be home in an hour and Candy wants to meet at her place.

She smiled before quickly texting back.

Lisa: Just got home, actually XD. I'll be over after I pick up Dominique.

She put the device in her pocket and grabbed her second wallet off it's forgotten place on the couch and quickly exchanged before getting another text.

Brenda: Kay, see you then.

In an hour she was helping her friend get her bags into the trunk of her car. Dominique had gone to Russia and they were ecstatic to see each other again. They were about to delve into their adventures until they remembered Candy would kill them. So instead Lisa drove to Candy's apartment.

When they arrived, they walked right in like it was their own. "Candy! Brenda!" Dominique yelled in greeting.

The four girls quickly bunched together in a fit of jumping and squealing. Somehow, they ended up on the couch with a variety of chocolates, drinks and foreign treasures.

"Okay, you guys will never guess what happened when I was at the park." Candy started. "I met a guy."

They all groaned, Candy meta guy everywhere.

"And," she interrupted. "he gave me this." she held the ring up for inspection.

"You got engaged?!" Brenda demanded.

"No, it was for his late girlfriend. And he wanted it to go to someone who'll take care of it."

"Wow..." Dominique said. "All I got was a Russian's forced hospitality and coat." though she joked, there was a genuine smile on her lips.

"An English Gentlemen swept me off my feet." Brenda said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"A Frenchmen took me on a tour of France and gave me a native's view of the Hundred Years War." Lisa happily mused.

"So we all met guys?" Brenda laughed after a silence. "I doubt that'll happen again."

"Yeah," the three chorused.

"I don't know about the rest of you." Dominique said. "But it felt...weird being around Ivan."

"I did to, around Arthur."

"Alfred to."

"Francias as well."

They stared around, silently agreeing to follow the same order to describe the sensation.

"Protected."

"Comforted."

"Found."

"Saved."

Another silence passed through them as each pondered the possibility to likely, but they all felt a sudden peace overcome them that they'd even met them.

The silence was laughed off and the girls continued with their get together, sharing more stories of their worldwide adventures. Telling them of places they'd take the other's someday. Stories minds, only remembered when stumbled across in a journal.

But those men, those four marvelous men that seemed to turn their world upside down, they'd be forever embedded in their minds. Not knowing they to, were...

Never forgotten.

A/N Last chapter! Thank you so much for putting my fickle updates. So first one done! And I'm currently working on another one :3 so when I am confident that I can update constantly then I'll start posting it. Until next time lovelies!


End file.
